Міжнародний епізод

           ”“Well,”saidLordLambeth,glancingattheburningheavens,“I‘guess’itdoesn’trainsomuchhere!”ThedoorwasopenedbyalongNegroinawhitejacket,whogrinnedfamiliarlywhenLordLambethaskedforMr.Westgate.“Heain’tathome,sah;he’sdowntownathiso’fice.”“Oh,athisoffice?”saidthevisitors.“Andwhenwillhebeathome?”“Well,sah,whenhegoesoutdiswayindemo’ning,heain’tliabletocomehomeallday.”Thiswasdiscouraging;buttheaddressofMr.Westgate’sofficewasfreelyimpartedbytheintelligentblackandwastakendownbyPercyBeaumontinhispocketbook.Thetwogentlementhenreturned,languidly,totheirhotel,andsentforahackneycoach,andinthiscommodiousvehicletheyrolledcomfortablydowntown.TheymeasuredthewholelengthofBroadwayagainandfounditapathoffire;andthen,deflectingtotheleft,theyweredepositedbytheirconductorbeforeafresh,light,ornamentalstructure,tenstorieshigh,inastreetcrowdedwithkeen-faced,light-limbedyoungmen,whowererunningaboutveryquicklyandstoppingeachothereagerlyatcornersandindoorways.Passingintothisbrilliantbuilding,theywereintroducedbyoneofthekeen-facedyoungmen—hewasacharmingfellow,inwonderfulcream-coloredgarmentsandahatwithablueribbon,whohadevidentlyperceivedthemtobealiensandhelpless—toaverysnughydraulicelevator,inwhichtheytooktheirplacewithmanyotherpersons,andwhich,shootingupwardinitsverticalsocket,presentlyprojectedthemintotheseventhhorizontalcompartmentoftheedifice.